Beyond The Masks Part 5
by Isabella GL
Summary: Roger and Ross continued their search for Holly.


"I can't go out like this!" Holly looked down at the oversized shirt and pants she was wearing.

"I am sorry my clothes don't become you. Would you rather leave with the ones you first came with?" Johnny replied with a smirk.

Holly looked at her dirty dress lying in a corner of the room. There was a hole the size of Rhodes Island in the front. She shrugged and walked out to the jeep.

Johnny followed her with his bags, closing the door of the hut behind him.

"Don't you lock the door before you leave?" Holly asked, getting seated on the passenger seat.

"I have nothing valuable. Besides, nobody ever comes around here." He sat beside her and looked her intently in the eyes.

"So, you won't change your mind?"

Holly sighed. "No. I don't want to stop to the village. I want to get back to the States as soon as possible. I have to know what happened to my life!"

"Fine. We'll fly to Panama City and I'll get you on a plane to Springfield first thing tomorrow."

"Are you sure you don't want to come along with me?"

God, yes! Johnny thought, but he held his peace. It was better for him not to spend too much time by her side. She was a married woman, even if she had no clear idea of who her husband was at the moment.

"No, I have to work, remember? But it'll be fun flying with you again with my plane. Just like old times."

* * *

Roger and Ross looked down the empty street.

"Where is everybody?" Ross asked.

Roger looked at his watch, fanning himself with a small weather beaten map. "At this hour, they're probably napping."

"So, where do we start looking?"

Roger looked back at their rented car. They couldn't leave Miguel tied in the trunk for too long in this heat. "Let's ask at the hospital first. I'd rather leave the police station until the end; they might tip off Guerrera and it's the last thing that we want."

Ross nodded and wiped the sweat off his forehead. Since leaving Mexico the night before, this was the first time they had been able to catch their breath. The flight to Panama had been the most nerve-racking part, for they had to make sure that Miguel, the man they had kidnapped, stayed quiet. _I kidnapped a man_. Ross shuddered at the thought. Roger, on the other hand, looked completely unfazed by this turn of events. In fact, he looked calmer than he had been in days. _Finally in his element_, Ross concluded.

A mix of threats and bribes had done the trick for Miguel, who so far had been obedient and helpful. He had led them to the village close to the Guerrera estate. If Holly was still alive, this is the place she would be the most likely to end up to. At least, they had succeeded in convincing Blake to stay in Panama City, which had been no small feat. She had promised to be careful and to keep an eye opened for her mother in case she turned up in the city.

* * *

They came back to the car two hours later, empty-handed. No one had seen Holly or heard about her. At least she was not in the morgue, Roger thought with dark humour. They drove just outside the town before getting Miguel out of the trunk. The small man stretched with a sullen look.

"So, no luck?" he said defiantly.

Ross grabbed Roger's arm before he could strike Miguel and said "Don't push your luck, Mister. He might shoot you yet."

Miguel raised his hands and took a few steps back. "Ok, ok. No need to get mad again. If she not in the village, then it means she is somewhere out in the jungle."

"How could she survive out there! It's been more than a week!"

"I didn't say she was alive." They all stood silent for a while, pondering over the alternative. Miguel was almost as unhappy at the other two, although for entirely different reasons. If Holly turned out to be dead, he would not get the money Roger had promised him. All he could hope for was a bullet in the head instead. He didn't care for it.

"Hey!" he exclaimed after a few minutes, "Maybe she's at the pilot's hut."

Ross and Roger both urged him to go on. "There's a few people living in the jungle that we know of; this guy is the closest to Guerrera's place."

Roger ran back to the jeep, yanking Miguel's arm in the process. "Lead us there."

* * *

Roger knocked at the door even though he knew nobody was there; the place was too quiet. He waited before trying the doorknob. To his surprise, it was unlocked. The three of them came in and looked around the premises.

"He carries merchandise between the village and Panama City. Maybe he's off on one of his trips." Miguel offered.

Roger didn't bother to answer and started rummaging through the drawers. Overcoming his scruples, Ross pitched in. Coming across a rag on the floor, he picked it up to toss it aside before dropping it with a strangled cry.

"What is it?" Roger walked up to Ross, picking up the rag himself. They both stared at it for a second. "She was here," Ross finally managed to utter.

Roger unfolded the dress, taking in the tear in the front, the dirt stains. He sighed with relief. No blood.

He turned towards Miguel. "Who did you say this guy was?"

"It's an American but with a German name. Schneider, I think. No wait, that's not it."

"Think, for Christ's sake!" Ross cried.

Miguel scratched his head, thinking hard. "Bauer, yes, that's it. His name is Bauer."


End file.
